


Getting to Know Malfoy

by Tammyfait69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammyfait69/pseuds/Tammyfait69
Summary: On a dare from Ginny, Hermione takes a class for self-awareness and intimacy through sexuality. To her shock, Draco Malfoy is also in the class. See what happens when Draco and Hermione are forced to pair up throughout the course and Hermione finally gets to know the real Draco Malfoy in every way possible.





	1. Chapter 1

Getting to Know Malfoy

BY: Tammyfait69

Rated: M

Notes: I do not own these characters, they belong to JK. Rowling, I just like to play with them. :)

**xx-oo-xx-oo-xx-oo**

**_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**The Leaky Cauldron: June 2004.**

Hermione took a seat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron. She had her bi-weekly lunch date with Ginny and was eager to hear the latest tales of the antics of James Potter, Harry and Ginny’s three-year-old son. Ginny’s stories of the precocious tot never failed to make Hermione laugh, and Hermione desperately needed cheering up today.

She had just ordered a glass of wine for both herself and Ginny when the red-headed witch hurriedly made it to the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ginny said, tossing her handbag into the booth before collapsing into her seat next to it. “but I’m utterly knackered.” She let out a long sigh. “James decided today would be a great day to discover how to open the fridge.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “No!”

Ginny rolled her own expressive blue eyes. “Yes. My kitchen floor was utter shambles, let me tell you. He got his little mitts on the milk, butter, eggs and pancake syrup and had the lot of it spread out on my kitchen floor.” Ginny ran a hand through her long red hair. “All he needed was some flour and my son would’ve had a right proper pancake breakfast!”

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stop her giggles since she could see Ginny had not found the humor in her son’s actions yet, but it did not help, and a small chuckle burst forth. Ginny scowled, and Hermione immediately tried to stop herself. “Sorry, but you have to admit he’s rather clever to put all those ingredients together.”

Ginny gave her a look that said she was not amused. “Now you sound as chuffed as Harry.”

That did not surprise the brunette witch. Harry thought anything his son did was brilliant. Hermione decided to change the topic until Ginny could talk about it without her face pinching in exasperation.

“Please tell me you ordered wine?” Ginny asked, hopefully.

“Yes.” Hermione grinned. “It’ll be here shortly.”

“Thank Merlin,” Ginny sighed.

The two old friends settled into an easy banter as they lunched, discussing everything from Harry and Ginny’s upcoming anniversary to Hermione’s new cases over at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

After a while Ginny broached the subject she’d wanted to discuss with Hermione. “You know, I spoke to Oliver Wood a few days past…”

Hermione could see where this was going but bit back her frustration. Ginny and Harry were constantly trying to fix her up with single wizards. However, she and Oliver had dated for a bit a couple of years past and it had not worked out.

“Oh?” Hermione replied, taking a sip of her wine. “How is he? Still playing Quidditch?”

“Of course. He’s with England’s World Cup Team actually.”

Hermione nodded as if she cared. In truth, she did not. She had never been a fan of Quidditch and she never would be a fan. It was one of the main reasons she and Oliver and failed to spark the first time around; they simply had nothing in common.

“He asked about you, actually,” Ginny said when Hermione did not carry on the conversation.

Hermione sighed as she set her wine down. “Gin, I appreciate what your trying to do but please stop. Oliver and I did not work out the first time because we are two utterly different people,” she told her friend. “His world revolves around Quidditch. Mine doesn’t. That will never change, so can we not do this, yeah?”

Undeterred Ginny said, “What about Connor McLaggen? He could barely take his eyes off you at the Ministry fund raiser last month.”

Hermione snorted at the mention of their old schoolmate. “Ha! I had one date with McLaggen in sixth year. He has more hands than a grindylow and is just as slimy. In fact, I’d rather date a grindylow than McLaggen.”

Ginny giggled at the description but offered a hopeful, “Maybe he’s changed.”

Hermione shook her head recalling how McLaggen had tried to corner her near the women’s loo at the aforementioned fund raiser; she’d barely managed to escape his attentions. “He hasn’t,” she told the red head. “Trust me.”

“Hermione,” Ginny finally said, “when is the last time you’ve been on a date?”

“Ginny…” Hermione warned. Her personal life was her won and, while her friends meant well, she did not need them meddling in her love life.

“Rubbish! Don’t Ginny me, Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione’s lips twitched. “Oh, you must be serious to use my full name,” the brunette teased.

“It’s because I care about you, you ninny!” Ginny replied.

“I know you do, and I appreciate your concern I do but—”

“But nothing, ‘Mione. Ever since you and Ron split three years ago, you’ve barely managed another relationship. You and Oliver dated for what? A few months before you broke it off? And last year you were with that muggle boy…”

“Thomas,” Hermione supplied.

“Yes. Thomas. How long did he last?”

“I was with Thomas for nearly three months, Gin, but he wanted to get married and settle down. I’m simply not ready for that yet. It was the same circumstance with Ron. He wanted me to be your mother. I can’t settle down straight away. I want a career first, then I can think about a husband and children.”

“And how many other dates have you been on since then?” Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed. In the last year since she split with Thomas, she had gone on exactly two dates. Not from lack of offers. It was more along the lines of lack of interest in the offers. “I have standards, Gin. Just because I’m single and not dating a bloke every other night does not mean there is something wrong with me. I’ve just decided to quit dating for a bit.”

“How many in the last six months?” Ginny asked again.

“Two,” Hermione finally admitted on a sigh.

“Mmhmm,” Ginny said. “Look. Luna told me about this class…”

“Luna?” Hermione exclaimed. “She’s a relationship and marriage healer. Why would she recommend a class for me?”

“She didn’t. She actually recommended for Harry and me when we were having problems communicating.”

Surprised, Hermione asked, “Ginny, when was this and why am I only hearing about it now?”

“It was about six months ago. We had a rough go of it for a bit, but with Luna’s help we’ve worked through it now. We didn’t speak of it with anyone but Luna,” Ginny explained.

Hermione nodded. “But everything is fine now?”

“Yes,” Ginny confirmed. “But when Harry and I were having difficulties, Luna told me of this class. It’s a muggle course being given at the Uni,” Ginny said as she slid a bright pink piece of paper across the table. “The next session starts in two weeks, and I thought maybe it could help you with your issues.”

Hermione frowned as she took the paper. “And what issues would those be?”

Ginny shrugged. “Just look at the flyer.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend as she turned the paper over and began to read it aloud. “The Art of Intimacy: A course for self-awareness and self-empowerment through learned intimacy and sexuality.” Hermione’s cheeks pinkened. “Ginny what the bloody hell is this?”

“It’s a self-help course for people with intimacy issues.”

“You think I have intimacy issues?”

Ginny placed her hand on top of Hermione’s. “I think all of us who survived the war has intimacy issues, truthfully,” Ginny replied bluntly. “But I believe you’ve become out of touch with how to _be_ intimate, Hermione.” When Hermione opened her mouth to argue, Ginny squeezed her hand, halting her defense. “Just give it a look. At worst, you bugger off an hour of your time—at best you develop an entirely new concept of how to have deeper, more fulfilled relationships.”

Realizing Ginny wasn’t going to let it go, Hermione finally gave a short nod. “I’ll give it some thought, alright?” She stuck the flyer in her charmed carryall bag.

“I dare you to give it more than a thought, Hermione. I dare you to find that Gryffindor courage and actually have a go of it and see if it suits you.”

Hermione sighed. She hated when Ginny worded things like that, as if she were being cowardly not to do something. “Fine. I’ll have a look at one class. One Ginny to see if it fits.”

Hermione signaled for the waiter and ordered them two more glasses of wine. “Now, I insist we change the subject, or I swear, next time I watch James, I’ll make sure to take him to Sugarplum’s and fill his tummy up with acid pops, caramel cobwebs and chocolate frogs just before I return him to you!”

Ginny gasped at the sheer horror of that threat. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I find myself daring a bit today, so don’t push your luck.”

Ginny laughed. “Consider the subject dropped.”

“Merlin thank you,” Hermione said with a grin.

And with that, the two friends started laughing, their easy camaraderie returned.

**-xoxo-**

**________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Muggle London: July 2004**

There were only a few others in the class when Hermione arrived fifteen minutes early. There were four rows of seating and she took a seat towards the middle of the second row, hoping to blend in. Usually, she would have selected a seat in the front row, however, this was unlike any course she’d ever taken; she did not feel the same level of confidence in this course as she did in transfiguration or arithmancy.

As Hermione waited for the instructor to make an appearance, she took note of her fellow classmates as they arrived. She felt more than a little nervous when she realized many of the other students appeared to be couples.

Oh no. Was this a couple’s class?

“Granger?”

Shock made her freeze. That voice! No. It couldn’t be, she thought, in a muggle class of all places? Surely not. But, when Hermione turned to her right and looked up, sure enough, standing next to her chair was none other than Draco Malfoy in… Hermione’s jaw about dropped… muggle clothes of faded jeans, a white tee and a black leather motorcycle jacket; definitely not the typical Malfoy attire, but wow was all she could think as her eyes took him in.

The years had been good to Malfoy. He’d grown a few inches and put on some much-needed weight; he wasn’t skinny or lanky any more. Her gaze traveled along his physique as he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. He had some lovely muscles now. Oh yes. Malfoy looked fit alright and if the way he filled out his denims was anything to go by, he had a very nice bum too.

She looked away quickly as it dawned on her that she was checking out Draco Malfoy!

“Malfoy,” she said a bit breathlessly, too flustered to say anything more.

Merlin help her, she thought, was that really her voice? Luckily, he hadn’t caught her ogling him.

Hermione had not seen her former school rival in years, not since his trial when he was found innocent of most Death Eater crimes, except allowing them into Hogwarts, for that he had been found guilty, but since he was a minor at the time, he had been sentenced to probation only rather than Azkaban.

That had been nearly five years ago and other than testifying on his behalf at his sentencing hearing, Hermione had not given him much thought. However, one thing she would have counted on for certain…Draco Malfoy was the last wizard in Britain she’d expect to find in a muggle class on self-awareness!

She nearly groaned aloud when he took a seat next to her; Hermione had to control the urge to scoot her seat as far away from him as possible.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

He slid the bag he had over his shoulder onto the floor at his feet. “What do you mean? It’s a class. I’m here to take it.”

“You do know this is a muggle class, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been taking muggle classes here at the Uni for the last two years, Granger.”

Well, that certainly explains the clothes.

“But that doesn’t explain the why,” she said. “Why are you really here, Malfoy? And don’t tell me it’s for a greater understanding of diversity or higher education.”

His brow shot up. “Well, I’m not following you, if that’s what you’re implying, Granger,” he retorted, with a smirk.

“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort,” Hermione shoot back. “But this is a muggle class on self-awareness and intimacy. Not exactly a course I see you gravitating towards.”

“And how would you know what kind of course I would or would not _gravitate_ towards?”

Hermione simply stared back at him, brow raised until Malfoy sighed. “Fine you nosy witch,” he snarked. “Enrolling in muggle classes is part of my probation,” he admitted.

She gave a small snort. “Really? And the ministry required you take _this_ course?”

“I was given a list of acceptable courses that met the reform requirement.” He shrugged and gave a little smirk. “This one seemed the most interesting.”

“Of course, it did,” she replied primly.

He chuckled huskily, and Hermione’s eyes widened at the sound. She could not remember ever hearing Malfoy laugh like that. Her eyes took note of how an honest to Merlin smile transformed his haughty features and turned him into a truly beautiful wizard.

Hermione turned away quickly. Sweet mother of Merlin what was wrong with her thinking of Malfoy as beautiful!

Beautifully deadly and viperous is more likely!

“So, why are _you_ taking this class, Granger?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She could not tell him the truth. She’d rather eat a bowl full of flobberworms than admit to Malfoy how pathetic her romantic life had become. “Curiosity. A thirst for knowledge,” she replied casually.

He gave another small laugh. “If it was anyone but you who told me that, I’d think you were taking the piss with me but seeing as I recall your insane need to be a know it all about everything…” His grey eyes studied her. “I _could_ almost believe you…” He paused but then he flashed her a wolfish grin that made Hermione’s breath catch and her hackles rise simultaneously. “ _If_ you weren’t blushing so furiously, that is.”

Hermione started to stutter out her denials, but Draco held up a hand to stop her. “Just stop right there, your rubbish at lying, Granger. Really you are, so don’t even bother trying. Must be a Gryffindor thing.”

“And I suppose you Slytherins are so much better at it, eh?”

He grinned again. “Of course, we are.”

She gave him an eye roll but when he cocked a brow at her and reminded her she hadn’t answered his question on why she was taking the class, she gave up her pretense. She supposed it served her right for demanding honesty from him. “Fine, you certainly are a nosy wizard,” she said, turning his words back on him. “If you must know, I seem to have a difficult time relating to the men I date so I thought taking a class on how to develop deeper intimacy might help me.”

He made an “mmm” sound and nodded, but didn’t say anything more, so Hermione turned the direction of the conversation back at him.

“So, why does the ministry require you to take a course on intimacy for your probation?”

“This class was actually listed as a sexual education course on the list I have.” He carded a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “My probation was supposed to end next month at the five-year mark, but the wizard handling my case just recently informed me he cannot terminate my program until I complete a sexual education course first.” He hesitated then added, “apparently all former Death Eaters have to take a class like this before they can be released from probation or Azkaban.”

Hermione stared at him blankly. “Why?”

He snorted bitterly. “Because, we’re all rapists and sexual deviants. Don’t you know?”

“But you didn’t…” She bit her lip as a sickening thought assailed her. “Did you…?” The question was out there before she’d really given it thought and she didn’t quite finish it before she saw his eyes widen in response.

His entire body tensed, and his jaw tightened. “Did I what?” he replied very, very softly.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” she answered, embarrassed at her assumption. “I never should have asked—”

“No,” he interrupted, “you shouldn’t have, but I’ll answer you if only to stop your overactive imagination from losing the plot and running amok.”

Grey eyes met amber and Hermione held her breath as he responded. “No, Granger, I never raped anyone. Luckily, I was spared that task,” he told her with a sneer. “Probably because I’d failed so spectacularly at other tasks assigned to me, the Dark Lord assumed I’d fail at that one as well.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “And he’d have been right,” he added under his breath.

“I really shouldn’t have asked, Malfoy,” Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip again. “I apologize.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright, Granger. I’ve heard worse. Believe me.”

Just then their instructor entered the class room, drawing their attention away from each other and ending the uncomfortable conversation.

Their instructor’s name was Dr. Jennifer Finley. She had a PhD. in Psychology and Psychotherapy and bore an uncanny resemblance to a young Elizabeth Taylor. Hermione noticed practically every man in the room, including Malfoy, was staring at the strikingly beautiful woman as if in a trance. After taking a roll call of the students and reminding the class to sign the sign-in sheet, Dr. Finley started in on the course description.

“The Art of Intimacy will explore how your capacity for and comfort with intimacy and desire, in all realms of your life, relates to your sense of self-awareness and self-expression.”

Dr. Finley counted the students in class and then handed a man and woman in the front row a stack of manuals each. “If everyone will take one and then pass them back to your classmates. This is the manual we will be using for this course.” 

As the manuals were being handed out, she carried on what the class would cover. “Over the next ten weeks we will discuss how certain cultures can inhibit sexual self-confidence and how culture can impact intimacy and relationships. We will explore the externalized self, versus the internalized self and how to make both compatible in your intimate relationships. Through group interaction and exorcises, we will uncover, explore and develop the erotic nature; focusing on the capacity for intimacy and how you can develop genuine generosity when giving intimacy and allow yourself the capacity to deeply receive intimacy as well.”

A group of three young men sitting towards the back of the class began to snicker as Dr. Finley spoke. Finally, she paused when one of the young lads raised his hand. “Yes?” she said, acknowledging the boy’s request.

“You said we’ll be deeply giving and receiving intimacy…yeah?” Dr. Finley nodded, and the boy hemmed and hawed for a moment before carrying on. “So…will there be any _actual_ …you know… _real_ intimacy in the class?” he asked, much to the giggling pleasure of his cohorts.

Hermione rolled her eyes at such a ridiculous question, but the instructor looked unfazed, almost as if she had expected such a question; Hermione supposed she probably got a few teenagers like that each class.

“By _real_ intimacy…do you mean sexual intercourse?”

“Well yeah. My twigs and berries are hankering to meet the pink lotus!”

That sent all three boys into another round of laughter.

“No,” she said, deflating their good humor with her answer. “There will not be any genitalia to genitalia contact or intercourse of any form in this class,” she told the boy with a smile.

“So, no strawberries and cream then?” Another of the trio asked.

Dr. Finley shook her head. “No nudity either I’m afraid.”

The three lads gave a collective groan before they gathered up their belongings and trudged out of the classroom.

Malfoy was hiding his grin behind his hand and it was all Hermione could do not to call him out for it. It figured he would find those wankers amusing. She couldn’t resist giving him a little sniff of indignation and turning her shoulder towards him.

After the troublemakers left, Dr. Finley offered a resigned smile to the rest of the class. “There are always a few,” she said confirming Hermione’s earlier suspicions. “Now, are there any others who are unsure what activities we will or will not be engaging in during this course?” She waited but when no one else stood she went on. “Good. My goal for this class is to show each and every one of you how the Art of Intimacy course can be utilized to deepen your sexual self-development, your sexual self-awareness and create healthier, more passionate relationships that offer a true reflection of the authentic erotic self.”

Once everyone had their manuals, Dr. Finley instructed the class to form pairs. “If you did not arrive with a partner, find one now and move to the back of the room where the bean bag chairs are located and find a seat with your partner. Since you will be working with the same partner throughout the ten weeks of class, I’ll give everyone…” She glanced at the clock, “till half past to converse and get to know one another and then we’ll be moving forward to the first exorcise for the remainder of class.”

There were twelve students in all in the class and six were already coupled up when they arrived in class, so that left Hermione, Malfoy, the handsome brunette man on Hermione’s left and three other young women. Hermione had no desire to be paired with Malfoy, however, when she turned to the man on her left, she found he had already paired up with the red head to his left. With the three boys bowing out of class, the two remaining girls had formed a pair…

“Looks like we’re going to be partners, Granger,” Malfoy said, sounding far too cheerful about the situation for Hermione’s peace of mind. “Or…” he added with his infamous lip curl, “you could just quit now.”

Fat chance.

The only thing worse than letting Draco Malfoy get the best of her and chase her from this class would be to wake up and be standing before the Wizengamot in nothing but her bra and knickers!

“I don’t think so, Malfoy. It looks as if you and I will be getting to know each other in ways neither of us ever dreamed of or wanted for that matter.”

That caused his smile to falter and Hermione felt lighter for it somehow.

Take that you ferret!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione get to know each other a bit better and deal with their first exercise...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken that extra moment to leave a review. I know its easy to ignore that comment section, however, we authors tend to be excited by the feedback we receive, so I really appreciate those who take an extra minute to comment. :)

**Previously:**

_"Looks like we’re going to be partners, Granger,” Malfoy said, sounding far too cheerful about the situation for Hermione’s peace of mind. “Or…” he added with his infamous lip curl, “you could just quit now."_

_“I don’t think so, Malfoy. It looks as if you and I will be getting to know each other in ways neither of us ever dreamed of or wanted for that matter.”_

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

They moved towards the back of the room where several sets of red and black bean bag chairs were situated around the room, placed a few feet apart for the couples to sit on. The lights were significantly dimmer in the back and Hermione was certain the lights were lowered to offer a sense of intimacy.

She plopped down on one of the red chairs while Draco awkwardly settled himself on the black one.

"What by Salazar is this chair?"

She chuckled. "It's a bean bag."

His brow shot up. "There are beans in this chair?" He snorted as he tried to sit in it comfortably. "No wonder it's so bloody awkward."

"They're not real beans. It's filled with little Styrofoam beans."

"I have no idea what that is, Granger."

Hermione didn't no how to explain it so she didn't.

After that exchange they became quiet again, without a word spoken until the silence lengthened and finally became too much.

“Well this is stupid,” he scoffed. “How are we supposed to explore intimacy if we can’t even carry on a bloody conversation for more than a few moments?”

Hermione sighed. He was right. They needed to approach this from a different angle. “Malfoy,” she said softly. “Maybe we should just start over.”

His brow shot up. “Start over?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a nod. “Start over. We’re not children anymore. We can be adults about this.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you.”

Draco looked down at her hand as if it was a snake about to bite him. “Don’t be silly, Granger. I already know you.”

Disappointed, Hermione’s hand returned to her lap. “Do you though?” she returned. “You never took the time to get to know me at Hogwarts. You simply hated me on sight because of my blood status.”

After a moment, Draco sighed and capitulated. “Fine. You may have a point there,” he grudgingly conceded.

Hermione brightened and once again held out her hand. “Hermione Granger,” she said.

He gave a small eye roll as if he still thought the gesture ridiculous but took her hand in his anyhow. “Draco Malfoy,” he said, giving her hand a small shake. “A pleasure, Granger.”

“No. Not Granger,” Hermione said. “If we’re to truly start over, call me Hermione.”

“What?” He shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “Granger is what I’ve always called you.”

“That’s exactly why,” she replied. “Granger is what you called me at Hogwarts. We’re starting over, so let’s do it proper. You’ll call me Hermione and I’ll call you Draco. Yeah?”

Another sigh. Finally, Malfoy nodded. “Okay. Nice to meet you…” He hesitated for just a moment before adding, “Hermione.”

She ignored the small shiver hearing him call her by her first name gave her. “Likewise, Draco.”

He gave a small laugh.

“What?” Hermione asked, bothered he appeared to be laughing at her so quickly after agreeing for a truce.

He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just weird hearing you call me Draco is all.” Seeing her frown, he added, “I’m not making fun of you, Grang-er-Hermione.”

“Are you certain?” she grumbled. “Laughing at someone is generally a sign of making fun of them.”

He sighed. “I’m not. I promise. It just threw me is all. I’ll get used to it.”

Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the dark mark on his arm; the skull and snake that branded him a Death Eater. Draco noticed, and his right hand came up to rub the faded mark.

“Sorry,” he said. “I forget to glamour it here. The muggles think it’s nothing more than a bad tattoo.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Draco. You were a kid…”

“I appreciate you saying that but we both know I was an arrogant little prat who believed that pureblood shite despite the proof that stared me in the face telling me it was nothing more than shite!”

Her brow raised but she didn’t say anything.

“You know I mean you, right?”

“I thought so, but I didn’t want to sound arrogant.”

He chuckled. “Since when?”

She rolled her eyes at him once again and he held up his hands as if in surrender. “Seriously though, I am sorry Hermione. About all of it. Things I said to you. What my Aunt did to you. Everything. If I could change it. I would.”

Hermione finally gave a small nod. “I believe you. I’d like us to…perhaps become friends…” She watched him closely and when he didn’t scoff, snort or roll his eyes, she went on. “I mean there’s no reason for us to carry on old grudges, Draco.”

This time he didn’t laugh when she said his name, he nodded. “I agree and thank you, Hermione…for giving me a chance, yeah?”

The way he said her name made her tummy do somersaults, but Hermione ignored the sensation. She was too pleased he seemed to be making an effort in moving forward (rather than rehashing the past) to get caught up in how uncomfortable developing a crush on him could be; she would overanalyze that later when she was alone, but not now. Since Dr. Finley had not called an end to the “getting to know each other” phase of the class, Hermione started to suggest they begin going over the manual the instructor had given them when the door to the classroom suddenly slammed open and a remarkably attractive young blonde dressed in tight jeans and a neon pink hoodie with the Playboy “Bunny” insignia in white on the front.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” she apologized immediately, flipping her waist length honey blonde hair over her shoulder. “My flat mate lost her keys and I had to run home to let her in!” The young woman turned her pleading gaze to Dr. Finley. “Please tell me I can still take the course!”

Hermione glanced around and noticed the rest of the class were also distracted by the young woman’s late appearance. She hoped Dr. Finley didn’t allow her to stay. Missing half the class on a first day was inexcusable in Hermione’s opinion.

“Well, the class has been split into pairs already Miss…?”

“Lischious,” the blonde answered. “Shannon Lischous.” She clasped her hands together. “Please let me stay, Dr. Finley. I’ve been dying to take this class!”

Dr. Finley turned to the group. “Does anyone mind if Ms. Lischous joins your group? That would mean one of your twosomes will become a threesome. If such a thing would cause a disruption in your ability to achieve intimacy. Please feel free to speak up.”

There was a small round of laughter at the “threesome” comment, but no one in the class spoke up against allowing the pretty girl to join the class late.

Hermione wanted to raise her hand but when no one else did, she kept it firmly in her lap, not wanting to be the only one saying no.

She heard Draco snicker next to her and turned to him with a frown. “What?” she hissed.

“You want to raise your hand so badly, don’t you?” he guessed, smirking at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t reply as she heard Dr. Finley telling the latecomer to pick a group to join. The brunette witch watched as the pretty blonde surveyed the room, holding her breath as the girl’s eyes landed on Draco and stayed there. The young woman smiled brightly, and Hermione just knew she was going to ask to join their group.

Bloody terrific!

Sure enough, a moment later the young woman approached them, hips swinging all the way. “Can I join your group?”

Hermione noticed she posed the question to Draco, completely ignoring Hermione as if she was not even present.

Malfoy’s gaze went to Hermione, however, before he even replied the woman was dragging another bean bag chair across the floor and taking a seat next to Draco as if invited. “Hi,” she said in a far too chipper voice. “I’m Shannon, but my friends call me Bubbles.”

“Wait,” Hermione said. “Your last name is Lischous and yet your friends call you Bubbles?”

Ms. Bubbles-Lischous gave a nod before she pulled off her hot pink jumper to reveal a bright pink tank top with a low-cut neckline meant to showcase the girl’s overly large, round breasts; which Hermione was quite certain had been purchased because no boobs could be that big and that perky at the same time!

“I know. Isn’t it adorbs? Bubbles-Lischous!” Her big blue eyes surveyed both Hermione and Draco, her grin wavering but not disappearing when they didn’t join in with the laughter. “You know, like the gum?”

“Are you certain they’re friends?” Malfoy muttered under his breath causing Hermione to bite back a smile.

“Pardon?” Bubbles asked.

“Never mind,” Draco sighed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shannon,” he told the woman; the manners his mother raised him with kicking in.

“Oh please,” she said, her eyes traveling over Draco’s face and form hungrily. “I’m sure we’re gonna be goood friends. You can call me Bubbles.”

“I’d rather not,” Malfoy deadpanned; the pure-blood snobbery he was raised with kicking in as well.

Hermione turned away, hiding her face behind her hair, so he could not see her lips twitch with mirth at his reply.

“Oh.” Bubble’s brows lowered in confusion for a moment before her expression cleared. “Okay. Well Shannon will do then.”

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before the blonde settled her gaze on Hermione. “So… you two aren’t a couple, right?”

“No, we’re not,” Hermione confirmed, unsure if she should be insulted or not that the blonde had automatically assumed such a thing. “However, we knew each other from school years ago.”

“Fab!” Bubbles said and promptly dismissed Hermione and turned her full attention back to Draco, much to Hermione’s annoyance and Malfoy’s amusement.

Hermione watched as the woman scooted her bean bag closer to Draco and leaned into him, offering him a spectacular view of her massive cleavage displayed so prominently by the tight tank top she was wearing.

And of course, Draco looked. Hermione noted his eyes straying towards the girl’s chest and resting there for a long moment before he glanced up and caught Hermione’s frown. He had the audacity to wink at her but to his credit, his eyes didn’t seem to ogle the woman anymore—despite the woman’s efforts to have him do so as she started going on and on about her career as a lingerie model.

The blonde leaned forward placing her hand on Draco’s knee. “If you ever want to come to one of my shows, just let me know.” Her hand moved up Draco’s thigh. “I think we’re going to be very good friends, you and I,” she breathed in a vapid, baby-doll voice that set Hermione’s teeth on edge.

The witch rolled her eyes at the girl. Could she be any more obvious? However, Hermione did find some small bit of amusement while she waited for Draco’s reaction. Hermione knew something Bubbles did not; Draco Malfoy was not fond of PDAs. In fact, they annoyed him to no end. Hermione clearly recalled his displeasure whenever Pansy would hang on him during their Hogwarts days. He never failed to become rather rude to the Slytherin girl in those moments, and Parkinson was supposedly his girlfriend at the time.

Hermione was certain Bubbles would be told to bugger off for openly groping him.

Sure enough, Draco promptly removed the woman’s hand from his leg and dropped it back on the girl’s lap. “Yes. Well, before we bond over our newfound friendship perhaps you can actually partake in this class,” he told her, lip curled in a sneer Hermione was quite familiar with. “And to do that, you’ll need a manual.”

Bubbles let out a high-pitched giggle causing both Hermione and Draco to wince.

“Can’t I just share yours?” she asked, batting her terribly long fake lashes at him.

Draco looked clearly vexed now and, to Hermione’s amazement, Bubbles did not seem to grasp she was being rejected.

Perhaps the woman’s brainless act wasn’t an act after all?

“No,” Draco replied unequivocally. “You need your own, which is why we were all given one. So, off you go, Bubbles.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Bounce right on back to Dr. Finley and ask for your manual. That’s assuming she still has one left considering you skived off half the class.”

Hermione knew the exact instant that Bubbles (the airhead) finally realized Draco was not interested. Her eyes widened, and she let out a little huff of frustrated breath. “You’re acting rather rude, you know?” she said; however, the dressing down lacked heat since it was said in such a lisping, girlish voice.

Draco smirked. “And you’re rather thick,” he returned, obviously deciding to forego all his well-bred manners. “Still want to be _good_ friends?”

Not wanting to add fuel to the growing fire between her group partners, Hermione kept mum and managed to hide her amusement too. She almost felt bad for the girl because she knew what it felt like to be picked on by Malfoy, but Hermione simply could not compare her situation at Hogwarts to Bubbles’ present circumstance; it was like comparing apples and oranges, they might both be fruit, but they were not the same. In seven years, Hermione had never-ever thrown herself at Draco the way this girl had in barely ten minutes.

Bubbles gathered up her jumper and her book bag. “I think I’ll just ask Dr. Finley to let me choose another group,” she said, but she didn’t immediately leave, she lingered instead.

If she was expecting Draco to ask her to stay, Bubbles was once again sorely disappointed.

“I think that would be best,” Malfoy responded, shrugging her off. “I feel our relationship has gone as far as it can go, so really, an intimacy class would simply be a waste. Let’s just part as friends and leave it there, yeah?”

Hermione couldn’t help it; his acerbic reply was just shy of being outright insulting, but it was clever, and it made a small bubble (pun intended) of laughter burst forth. Bubbles turned angry blue eyes on her and Hermione stifled any further laughter behind her hand.

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled, a tad embarrassed at laughing.

“You’re not though!” the girl spat before she returned her glare to Draco. “Fine! If you’re choosing this…” Her gaze raked Hermione. “…little minger over me!” She tossed her long blonde hair. “Then you’re a bloody tosser anyhow!”

“Hey!” Hermione gasped, fighting the urge to curl into herself at the cruel insult.

Hermione didn’t believe herself the most beautiful witch, but she certainly had never thought of herself as repulsive either!

But Bubbles didn’t stop to apologize for the hateful slur. No. She marched up to the front of the class and could clearly be heard asking for a new group because her last group had a certain “blond prat whose rudeness could not be tolerated a moment more”!

Draco chuckled at her description but did not disagree nor did he call the blonde out for her own bad manners. He just watched the girl choose a new group with an amused smirk curling his lush mouth.

Hermione watched as Bubbles made her way to another couple before turning to Malfoy. “You were rather rude, you know?”

“Oh?” His brow shot up. “Should I have waited until her hand was actually _in_ my pants before telling her to piss off then?”

Hermione flushed. “Of course not. But I know how deep your insults sting, Malfoy.”

That set him off. “What are you on about, Granger? You can’t seriously be getting your knickers in a twist because I insulted some brainless twit who, in the ten minutes we were forced to endure her company, fondled me and rather grievously insulted you! Not to mention,” he added, “she skived off the first half of class and didn’t even have the sense to come up with a better excuse than ‘my flat mate lost her keys’.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I know you didn’t seriously want that slag in our group. So, leave off already, yeah?”

She nodded. He was right. She hadn’t wanted the far too clingy and busty Bubbles in their group. “You’re right,” she admitted.

He made a production of almost falling out of his chair. “Come again?” he asked, cupping his hand at his ear. “Could you repeat that?”

Hermione took a deep breath in an effort to keep her temper in check. “I said you’re right.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when Hermione Granger would admit she was wrong about anything.”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!” she snapped, deciding he really was still a git and she couldn’t care less about starting over any longer. She began scooting her chair away from him.

“Wait,” he said, chuckling. “Hermione, wait.”

Hermione paused when Draco took her hand in his. “I shouldn’t tease,” he said and leaned forward, batting his lashes at her in a parody of their least favorite air-head, Bubbles. “You and I are going to be such gooood friends, you know please accept my heartfelt apology.”

She rolled her eyes at him so hard, it was a miracle they weren’t permanently facing backwards! “You’re not nearly as amusing as you think you are. You do know that, yes?”

“I am sorry,” he said with a shrug, and then added, “She was wrong you know?”

“About what?” Hermione asked cautiously, wary for him to tease her again.

“You’re not a minger,” Hermione began to blush, and it only deepened as he went on. “She’s just jealous because you're petite, with a naturally fit body. Don’t let her get to you.”

Her face was on fire. Had Draco Malfoy truly just called her fit? What did that mean? Did he find her attractive? If he did, had he always thought so? Was that why he’d picked on her at school? The questions were endless…

“Okay class,” Dr. Finley announced, interrupting Hermione’s wild inner ramblings. “That concludes out get to know each other time. We have ten minutes of class left and we’re going to start on our first exercise in that remaining time. I want you all to turn your chairs and face your partner.” She waited while the class followed her instructions.

“Well Hermione?” Malfoy asked, turning his seat to face her. “Still my partner?”

Hermione thought she should have her head examined at The Janice Thickey Ward for this, but she nodded and turned her bean bag chair towards Draco as well.

“Alright. Everyone please take up a comfortable position facing each other. This assignment is about eye contact.” There was a collective groan throughout the room and Dr. Finley smirked. “Yes. Staring into each other’s eyes. It may sound trite, but eye gazing is truly one of the most powerful exercise for bonding and intimacy. It fosters closeness and mutual vulnerability,” she said.

“Bugger,” she muttered softly.

Draco chuckled. “Seconded. Still want to do this?”

Hermione felt her chest tighten. “Yes.”

Draco nodded and met her gaze. “Okay.”

For the first time, Hermione noticed his grey eyes had small flecks of blue within their silvery depths. They were quite beautiful really and, for a moment, Hermione was lost in those eyes thinking how truly handsome Draco Malfoy was.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?” she answered still staring.

“You know we haven’t started yet, right?”

Hermione flushed and blinked rapidly. She felt as if she was coming out of a daze. Oh no.

“I was practicing,” she said, lifting her chin as if daring him to call her on her bluff.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, but his smile said he didn’t believe her.

Hermione felt her stomach flutter. This was going to be a long-long class.

Suddenly she was terrified.

Sweet Mother of Merlin! What had she gotten herself into?

Hermione was just beginning to panic when Dr. Finley began her instructions...

“Alright, for the next four minutes I want you all to gaze into one another’s eyes,” Dr. Finley said. “You can blink of course, but do not look away or break eye contact.” She held up an egg timer. “When the timer goes off the exercise will be complete.” She paused before asking. “Does everyone understand the exercise?”

One woman raised her hand. “Are we supposed to hold hands while we do this?” she asked. “I heard you’re supposed to hold hands when doing this.”

“If you feel comfortable holding hands already, then feel free to do so, but it is not a requirement today,” Finley replied. “We’ll build towards handholding as we progress each week and eventually it _will_ be a part of the exercise, but for today, you may simply eye gaze.”

“Wanna hold hands Granger?”

“Hermione,” she corrected. “We agreed to call each other by our given names, so you should have asked ‘do you want to hold hands, Hermione?’, not Granger.”

He rolled his expressive grey eyes. “Well do you?” he asked, setting his hands on his knees palms up.

If she said no, he’d think she was intimidated by him, she just knew it. So, she gathered up her Gryffindor courage and… “Okay,” she agreed, placing her hands in his.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“Okay class,” Finley said picking up the timer. “Four minutes, starting…now.”

Hermione took a deep breath and just allowed herself to stare into his eyes. Once again, she was captured by how striking they were. His golden blond lashes were incredibly long too.

Women would kill for lashes that long and thick, she thought.

She could feel a deep flush heat her cheeks and it took all her inner fortitude not to look away. She felt rather ridiculous just staring into Draco Malfoy’s eyes, noticing his lovely lashes of all things, but Hermione had never failed at a class project, test or exam; she wasn’t about to start now, so she ignored how awkward she felt and forced herself to maintain eye contact.

She had no idea how long they’d been staring at each other—it felt like hours in truth—when Hermione felt a niggling sensation in her head. Almost like someone was tickling her brain with a feather. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she gasped as she realized what that sensation was. It was far subtler than Harry’s could ever be, but Hermione still recognized it for what it was.

“Are you using legilimency on me right now?” she hissed quietly.

He smirked, and Hermione let out an infuriated gasp as she yanked her hands out of his grasp. She immediately raised her occlumency walls like Harry had taught her, ensuring Malfoy stayed out of her head until the class was over. She was so livid, steam should be coming out her ears.

“How dare you!” she growled, keeping her voice down so as to not disturb the class. “I can’t believe you did that. You had no right—”

“Oi, ease off, Granger,” he said, interrupting her tirade, sotto voce. “I wasn’t digging deep into your personal thoughts. I have no interest in what wizard you think looks dashing in his dress robes.” He grinned. “I barely scratched the surface. I just wanted to know what you really thought of little Mis. Bubbles over there.”

Hermione frowned at him. “If that was the case, you could’ve just asked,” she whispered.

He leaned forward, his eyes dancing. “Nah. You’re too nice. I wanted the real catty thoughts,” he whispered back, smirking.

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Fine. You want to know what I think of her?” Before he replied she said, “I think she’s a bimbo who probably spent far too much money on her fake boobs!”

The timer, signaling the end of the exercise buzzed just as Draco burst out laughing.

The class as well as Dr. Finley turned to look at them.

Hermione flushed bright red.

Draco cleared his throat. “Um. Sorry.”

Dr. Finley dismissed the class with a promise to see them all next week.

Hermione gathered her things together, still unsure if she should forgive him for invading her mind like that. Finally, unable to help herself, she set her bag down and faced him. “What did you see?” she asked. “Tell me the truth and I _might_ forgive you.”

He hesitated for a split second. “Nothing, except you think most women would love to have my eyes and my lashes.”

Hermione didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. “I think I’m beginning to hate you again,” she snipped, brushing past him to exit the class room while doing her best to ignore the burning blush along her cheeks.

He grabbed his bag and jacket and quickly followed after her, his longer stride easily catching up to her. “No, you aren’t” he stated confidently. “You think I’m—”

“Shut it, Malfoy,” she interrupted. “Or I’ll hex your bollocks off as soon as we’re out of muggle London!”

Draco wisely stopped teasing her and they walked in silence for a moment before he tried to explain his reasoning behind his using legilimency on her. “It was a distraction. Okay?”

“What was?” Hermione asked as they exited the Uni hall and began making their way across the campus towards the street.

“Using legilimency on you. I was trying to distract myself, so I didn’t look away and break eye contact.”

“So, you thought invading my mind was a better idea than disrupting the exercise?” Her disbelief was obvious.

He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t digging for any deep hidden secrets. Just surface thoughts.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a matter of trust, Draco. This class is about building trust and intimacy and you broke it.”

After a moment in which Hermione assumed he was giving that some thought, he heaved a long, drawn out sigh. “You’re right. I didn’t think of it like that,” he admitted. “I apologize, Hermione. It won’t happen again.” He held up his first three fingers, so they formed a W. “Wizard scout’s honor.”

Hermione couldn’t help it, even as she rolled her eyes at his words, her lips twitched at the earnest expression he wore. “Please,” she replied, lifting her nose in the air. “I highly doubt _you_ , Draco Malfoy, were _ever_ a wizard scout!”

“How do you know?”

“You seem to forget, I’ve known you since you were eleven.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you? You _have_ met you, yeah?”

He chuckled. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t, but I wanted to be.”

She snorted but when he didn’t join in on her amusement, she paused. “Serious?”

“I did. Was actually quite chuffed at the prospect, in fact.”

“So, why didn’t you join?”

He shrugged. “Father said it was beneath me,” he explained. Then he deepened his voice in a fairly decent imitation of Lucius Malfoy. “Malfoy’s _do not_ become members of any organization as plebian as the wizard scouts, son.”

It was in that moment that Hermione began to realize that perhaps Draco had not lived the charmed existence she’d always thought. She could not imagine trying to live up to Lucius’ outdated ideals of what was expected of a Malfoy.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sure you would’ve made quite the wizard scout. You’ve always been quite clever.”

He shot her a startled glance before a slow smirk spread across his cupid’s bow mouth. “Did Hermione Granger, brightest witch our age and all, just pay me, Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, a compliment?”

“I think I did,” she said, returning his smile. “Shocking, what one class can do, isn’t it?”

They came to where the public street met the Uni campus. Hermione turned to go right but paused when Draco stopped walking with her.

“I…uh…I go this way,” he told her, nodding his head to the left.

“Why?” Hermione replied. “The apparition point is this way.” She nodded her head, indicating to the right.

“I can’t apparate, Hermione,” he confessed, in a low toned voice.

“What do you mean you can’t apparate?” She scoffed. “Of course, you can. I’ve seen you do so with my own eyes.”

“What I mean is…I’m not _allowed_ to apparate. It’s part of my probation. All travel in the muggle world must be through muggle transportation.” He held out his wrist and Hermione stepped closer to study the icy blue metallic bracelet that encircled his pale flesh. “This inhibits apparition and basically tracks my magical core. If I attempt any illegal magical travel, I could be sent back to Azkaban to serve the remainder of my sentence.”

“Oh,” she said, awkward again. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he said with a shrug. “No need for you to be sorry.”

“Does a side-along count as you apparating?”

A slow smile curled his lips as he shook his head from side to side. “No. Are you offering?”

“If I was, would you accept?”

“Do we get to hold hands again?” he asked, wagging his brows at her.

Was he flirting with her?

His antics threw her, and Hermione realized he had obviously discovered she found him attractive when he was sifting through her mind.

Slightly irritated, her voice became clipped. “Do you want the side along or not, Malfoy? Or, if you’d rather tease me, you can just take the muggle red bus.”

“Ouch,” he said, “back to Malfoy is it?”

“It’ll be Malfoy whenever you’re being a git,” she informed him primly. “Coming?” she added, heading towards the apparition point.

He hurried after her. “You really are a bossy witch, aren’t you?” he griped as he caught up with her.

“You might want to brace yourself, Draco,” she said as they reached the point and stopped. “I’ve been told I only get worse as you get to know me.”

She watched his eyes light up and knew she’d somehow given him ammunition to tease her with. However, before he could fire a salvo, she said, “If what you’re about to say it going to get me flustered, I’d shut it, unless you _want_ to get splinched.”

She couldn’t help letting out a small laugh as the smirk was wiped off his face and replaced with a worried frown.

“Leaky Cauldron, yeah?” she said, confirming their mutual destination.

He nodded and with a “pop” she disapparated them…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys here’s the next chapter…let me know what you think yeah?  
> The next chapter will be in Draco's POV so we can see what *he* thinks of all this! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's the first chapter. This is a short multi chapter fic.   
> Comments and feedback are like cookies for the muse and inspiration for the writer! :)


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